wind/fall

Legault (FE7) — Resident of Abyss @ The Officer's Academy

[katabatiic]

Legault || Resident of Abyss @ TOA

"Killing the people you’ve lived and worked with for years, you’ll find yourself hated pretty quickly. That’s one thing that makes this place comfortable. I can just be a simple hanger-on."

LINKS: [ about ] || [ stats ] || [ mun ] || [ thread tracker ]

QUICK PORTRAYAL RUNDOWN:

Legault is here post-fe7 from his solo ending! He's familiar with anyone who traveled with Eliwood and Hector's army, though he made his exit pretty quickly once the dust settled.

He is a resident of Abyss due to the amount of bounty hunters interested in hunting down the remainders of the Black Fang, though he makes frequent trips upstairs to do recon/spy work (mission board work) for the Church in exchange for his safety. (And while he's out he often takes side trips to, ah, acquire goods to buy and sell down on Burrow Street. lol)

[katabatiic]

don't worry i RSVP'd for you already :-)

mission: herald | +1 authority

[katabatiic]

Legault is perched at the edge of a desk and idly reading a report when the turn of a knob across the room draws his eye. He smiles at the brunet who appears around the other side of the door.

“Ah, so I did have the right office. Good.”

The paper he’d been skimming is slid back to its place on the desk beside him. As riveting as it is to read what seems to be a student’s opinions on maintaining supply lines for armies, he didn’t come here to snoop through random piles of homework. His goal is to greet an old friend, and to provide said friend with a little gift. In one motion, he slips off the desk to stand and produces an envelope from beneath his cloak.

“Missive for you. The knights have been passing these out to folks they think will make a good impression at some sort of event.”

The fact that Legault is not with the knights is obvious, but goes breezily unaddressed. Mark is a clever fellow who can decide for himself whether he’d like to think about how a rogue gets his hands on other peoples’ mail.

“Who could be better for that than an unsung hero of Elibe, hm?”

@shystratagem

[katabatiic]

not my circus, not my....oh. oh, okay. yeah. that is one of my monkeys.

mission board: infamous | life-changing musician

[of-pherae]

Eliwood cannot help but be drawn to the spectacle. Rumor has spread of a traveling musician with power significant enough to divine the future. He would not lie that he's hoping to glimpse brilliant blue hair shimmering in icy reminiscence.

No such thing occurs and he reminds himself that those two are far from here and safer for that reason. This lady as well would be far better off away from this unruly group. He can see their ire from even the back of the crowd.

It takes some effort but Eliwood maneuvers his way to the front with an 'excuse me' and 'pardon me' as he slips between shoulders. He does not even notice that an extra shadow trails him.

The brute draws a short yet sharp knife, brandished in one fist as he snarls insults to the dancer. Without thinking, Eliwood places himself between him and her, and finds the knife point threatening to split his tunic and insides.

And another knife threatens to split the man's throat. He's backed away a few steps, guided by the hand of an old friend.

"Legault?" Eliwood stares in disbelief, but quickly focuses on the situation at hand. They can speak momentarily. The dancer at his back clings to his cape protectively and he offers her his hand to still her nerves.

"She's a fraud! She took my coin and gave me nothin'! I'm gettin' what's owed to me!" The brute is more bark than bite, Legault's blade keeping him in line, but his eyes are narrowed in hate.

"Here!" The dancer behind him shoves coins into his hand. "This is what he gave me! Please, leave me alone!"

Eliwood is disinclined to go with her solution after he's drawn a blade on her. Still, he holds onto the coin for now, and keeps himself positioned between her and him.

"Your actions have been reprehensible. I should say we get the guard, or even the Knights of Seiros, to step in. A day or so to cool off behind bars would do you well."

The brute gnashes his teeth and Eliwood has the distinct impression he would have already come at him if not for Legault's blade.

"What say you, my friend?" Eliwood tilts his head so that it's clear who he's talking to. "I fear this man is far beyond a peaceful resolution if he is already drawing his blade over a few coins."

Though they may have little choice in the matter. A crowd and clamor of this size is sure to draw the attention of the guard at least.

[katabatiic]

“You know my taste in solutions for folks who cause too much trouble for good people.”

His blade bites just the slightest bit deeper into his captive’s skin, just to drive his point home. Important to make oneself look big and scary when menaced by a bear, and all that. He can only hope one of his favorite lordlings also knows the value of a little posturing when in a pinch.

“Hey-!”

—Or maybe he won’t have to. The rattle of plate metal announces the arrival of the local authority. Legault meets the suspicious glare shot his way from beneath the visor of the man’s iron helm with a measured look.

“This man brandished a blade at my client, here. Just doing my job keeping him from harm.”

“...That so?” Seemingly unconvinced by the word of one apparent brigand accosting another, the guard looks to the princeling and the dancer for confirmation. Typical, really.

[katabatiic]

june activity

Skill Points

+1 Monthly

Total: 27

Allocated: Faith C (5) -> Faith C+ (6)

[wingboundwarrior]

A Dance Won’t Kill You

continued from here

[wingboundwarrior]

It's a joke, what he says, about her caring. She knows it is, and he knows it is. Despite the frosty exterior she attempts to maintain, the arms-length she holds all others from her, this night if nothing else has proven to him how easily she nicks and bleeds. Even in their first meeting he had seen the fleshy shell of her, beneath the steel of her armor. He knows.

At the end of the day, really, there's no reason to belabor the point of her love for him. Even if he knew it in clearer shape, it wouldn't change anything about the way he lives his life. Legault is a free spirit. All she is is a chain.

"Have you forgotten I'm here tonight as a guard? I have no plans to get wasted on the job, Legault." She pulls away from the balcony edge herself, attempts to slot shattered pieces of her mind back into place. "In fact, I have been away from my post too long, as lovely as it is to see you."

[katabatiic]

“Understood, understood.”

Time to step back, then. He lets his offered hand drop and lets the space between them grow again. Still, he can’t keep a silly grin off of his face. (The image of Fiora getting wasted is enough for that.)

“Best keep an eye out even when your assignment is over. There might be thieves still lurking about.”

Looking to steal more time, as he does. In the meantime he’ll make do with pilfering some refreshments for himself. If an off-duty knight is more interested in them than one still on the job, perhaps there will be enough to share. Until then, it’s easy enough to slip back into the crowd.

⇀ End

[loyaldeserter]

don't think that i need to keep running from a dream

toa ball 2026 | heath & legault

[loyaldeserter]

Energetic dances turn to slow waltzes while the night winds down, but Heath finds himself more wound up than ever as he wanders the ever-thinning crowds. The longer he goes without finding Legault, the heavier the orchid in his bouquet weighs and the sillier the plan Serra set out for him feels. He’s a grown man and so is Legault. Surely they’re beyond such juvenile gestures.

(As if they haven’t danced around it all for an unreasonable amount of time. Figuratively and literally, if you take into account last year’s ball. As if Heath's pulse doesn't quicken at the mere thought of doing anything more than that this year.)

Maybe it's karma that he finally catches sight of Legault while in the midst of these thoughts, caught completely and utterly off guard.

Legault always cuts a striking figure, but Heath's never quite seen him like this. A sheer blue shawl drapes over his shoulders, beneath which he wears what appears to be a black dress. Purple sleeves match a fabric collar that emphasizes the generous neckline, and the skirt flows gracefully with each step he takes. Heath’s frozen in place, his mouth slightly open with a sigh that never came to be. It's only when Legault turns his way that he's able to wrest free and begin his approach.

"Legault." Heath isn't generally one for eye contact, but he doesn't know where else to look without making a fool of himself. His heart pounds in his throat, and he fumbles uselessly for the orchid and a tulip of his own, stubbornly refusing to lower his gaze. "You're here."

You're beautiful.

@katabatiic your move gayboy

[katabatiic]

Heath.

There’s still a thrill in being approached first by him. He can call it the novelty of the tables being turned after so many years of making a living out of stalking after others if he likes. It’s a safer joke than the full truth blooming in his chest at the sight of him. “Of course I am.” Legault grins. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to see handsome folks all dressed up to the nines.”

The wyvern knight would look good in anything, but Legault does have a weakness for a pretty uniform. It’s like a code of honor worn on the sleeve, more literal than usual. What more could he ask for when it’s Heath’s intense resolve that draws him toward him again and again?

The orchid in the man’s hand doesn’t match the rest of his bouquet. It does, if Legault’s memory serves him, match the hair ornament of a different party goer. He steps closer, thumbs gently at one of the pastel petals.

“Visited by a certain little pink pixie earlier? I’m glad she didn’t completely wear you out before I could find you.”

[gondul-fang]

the abyss gazes back

Nino & Legault - Ethereal Ball - Reunion

[gondul-fang]

She braces herself for whatever could happen. Which includes, but is not limited to, complete rejection. Maybe she's been steeling herself for that all this time, for the bitter truth that Nino will only hold him back. That so little remains of what she called a family, and the last of it may slip away for good.

But Uncle Legault surprises her again. He's...happy to see her? He's not even all that ruffled about the timing. And now he...wants to dance?

Something about it forces a chuckle from her throat, a harsh and ugly sound. She dabs at her eyes carefully with her sash - oh no, is there snot running down her nose, too? What a mess she's made.

And yet. Legault is happy to see her.

Nino smiles as she shakes her head. "I've never danced," she admits. "Well, not...with anyone. Could...could you show me?"

[katabatiic]

“I wasn’t properly taught.” He keeps his voice low, as if sharing a dire secret. “But we’ve both learned how to pick things up by watching and listening, haven’t we?”

Relief softens the humor in his smile—Nino deserves mentorship and care, more than a life of skills scrapped together through observation. He may not be able to provide much on that front, but she’s at a place where others can. She’s safe. She can grow.

“Ah—dancing is supposed to be done with clean, happy faces.” She’s doing her best, but she’ll ruin her dress if she uses parts of it to keep scrubbing at her tears. He grasps at one of the loose ends on the knot holding his shawl together and brings it close to his sleeve, finagles with a blade concealed beneath his clothes until he successfully cuts the end of the fabric free.

(Ideally, this will be the only reason for him to use that blade tonight. The habit of needing one on him at all, even at a place like this, is another reason that it’s for the best for Nino to be cared for by someone else.)

He offers the makeshift kerchief to her. It’s a proper penance for making her cry, mucking up his own clothing instead.

“I’ll show you how to to dance if you show me how you have danced before while we do it. How's that sound?”

[katabatiic]

may activity

Skill Points

+1 Monthly

Total: 26

Allocated: Faith C (4) -> Faith C (5)

[katabatiic]

Heh. So he hasn’t found him yet. She sees Legault, and his bouquet is totally orchid-less. He he he…

“Legault! You’re welcome!” It’s a weird greeting for sure, but she knows she’s right. She knows she’s absolutely right. Then… “Ohmigosh! Shut up! You’re so cute! Where did you get that? We could be matchers!”

It’s true. Serra is wearing black tonight, an intriciate dark dress and black eye shadow and dark lipstick and all. He’s so adorable, she could die!

… And is he wearing the earring she got him? She loves him so bad.

“Here, take an orchid! And give me a tulip! As a ‘thank you’.” Despite the layers of make-up, the smile on her face is completely her.

Shut up? Legault may run his mouth often, but he hadn’t even had a chance to speak yet. Not that he has much to say right away—sometimes it’s best to let Serra run along and catch up along with her once she’s found a place to rest, so to speak. Better that than to trip over his words while she bounds on ahead.

(...Cute?? Has he ever been called that word in his life before? What a world it is that this girl lives in.)

The offering of a flower seems to signal room to speak, and he finally glides in.

“Alright. thank you for the orchid, and for the compliment.”

It only seems right to make the exchange fully equal. With an almost sly smile, he adds,

“It seems even a black dress can’t darken your vibrance, Dame Serra.”

[katabatiic]

[ STEAL ] - Purposeful or not, it looks like you've gotten your hands on something that isn't yours. You may want to return that before anyone notices. Or you may want to start running.

When he turns around to catch her in the act, Tina lets out a loud, "IDIDNTDOIT!!!" She needs a lot more practice with the up close and personal, non magical thieving. It's way easier when it's all the way across the map.

“That’s right, you didn’t.”

He shouldn’t laugh, but he does still smile. It’s easier to find the charm in a young pickpocket when she hasn’t skittered off with your belongings. There’s sympathy, too, when one was once a young pickpocket himself. Throw in a habit of making space for energetic girls with green hair, and it’s hard not to be a bit soft on this one.

Not so soft that he doesn’t take his coin purse back, though—with enough of a flourish to sneak an extra prize of his own, even. He gently rolls a hyacinth stem between his fingers and lets his smile grow a bit more smug.

“You should get better at picking your marks, kid.”

[gondul-fang]

the abyss gazes back

Nino & Legault - Ethereal Ball - Reunion

[gondul-fang]

Her eyes burn, but she won't cry; Fiora had done such a nice job on her makeup. She wants to throw herself at Legault, to sob and be held. When she was small, she could do such a thing without question. Even now, she cries silently; Sonia had ensured that from the time she could walk.

But...no. Not here. Not in this dress, not around all these people, not in front of Uncle Legault.

(He hadn't even scolded her for calling him that again. Even now, he's slow to anger. Even when he has more to lose by having her around.)

Nino manages a chuckle. "This might be the only place I wasn't looking for you," she says, "but here you are. It's good to see you."

She is fifteen now. Practically an adult, or at least, not a child. She will play that part, even if the shoes are too big.

"I thought," she continues, gaze cast at the sparkling tile floor, "if I could find you, you'd know that I'm not a little kid anymore. And that I remember what you taught me." Nino forces a smile. "I guess it didn't work. I didn't find you when you didn't wanna be found."

Something about forcing her expression flips the switch. Her face crumples, and tears race down her cheeks. She doesn't move, doesn't make a sound. She's fallen apart, and she's failed.

[katabatiic]

“Nino…”

Her brave little mask shatters. The shards of it cut him, even as he holds fast from letting his own expression show any cracks. Beneath the sting there’s an odd sense of relief, truth be told. A girl so young shouldn’t be so hardened against her own heart. It’s a good thing if she hasn’t built up the scar tissue to hold her own emotions in place.

“If you were hoping to find me at a time where I wouldn’t be happy to see you alive and well, you were playing a losing game. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

Legault moves his features into a careful smile. An equally careful angling of his body helps shield Nino’s tears from as many judging eyes as he can manage. He can't wipe her tears, not when it's his fault that they're running down her face. Instead, he lightly curls a hand around hers.

Quietly, like the way he’d offer a little adventure when she was small, he says, “I’d rather teach you something nicer than how to skulk about. Do you know how to waltz?”

[gondul-fang]

the abyss gazes back

Nino & Legault - Ethereal Ball - Reunion

[gondul-fang]

Weeks have passed without a single sign. Short of wandering straight into the underground streets - which would certainly be a stain upon her permanent record - Nino has searched every nook and cranny she could think of, at every possible time of day. A few times, she even slipped out in the middle of the night, avoiding the watchful gaze of the knights, hoping for a shadow, a rumble.

Nothing.

Until, of all places, here - a dense and spinning crowd, so many eyes and ears. Contained by the ballroom's four walls; well dressed, perfumed, clean shaven.

Nino blinks, rubs her eyes. She follows that flickering purple streak like a bloodhound, striding between twirling couples and poofy skirts until finally, she has caught her prey unaware. Would he be proud, in any other circumstance? Or is this too easy - something about fish in a barrel?

She closes the distance. She looks up - not as much as she once did. Her eyes are sparkling, still youthful - yet hardened. She balls her nicely-pressed skirt in her fists.

"Uncle Legault," she says, as if it's the third or fourth time she's tried. Not unkind, but demanding swift attention. "There you are."

@katabatiic

[katabatiic]

Legault’s whole body freezes in place. There’s only one person who calls him by that name, and she shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be anywhere near him. The underworld he’d fled to had no place for a child, especially one so kindhearted, and he’d made sure she didn’t follow.

And yet, here she stands.

“Little Nino. I…”

She’s not quite as little as she was in his memory. It’s not just in her height, or her face—there’s an assertiveness here that couldn’t flourish under the thumb of her mother. Nino is defying his own words from their last parting, pushing against his authority. A true, courageous Black Fang. He can manage a sincere smile at that, even if his heart clings to his throat at the sight of her. “I’m glad you’re well. You look lovely, Nino.”

She does. She’s as bright and full of potential as ever. His brows draw together with concern, and his voice grows quieter. “Why on earth would you look for me in a place like this?”

[katabatiic]

not my circus, not my....oh. oh, okay. yeah. that is one of my monkeys.

mission board: infamous | life-changing musician

[katabatiic]

“What d’you mean the show’s already over?”

Even without looking over, Legault senses potential danger in that growling tone. One glance confirms it—down the street there is a man with the puffed-up stance of a person protecting their own ego looming over a woman in colorful performer’s clothes. She pulls a stringed instrument closer to her chest.

“I’m sorry sir, but I need to prepare for my next-” “Don’t gimme that tripe. Life-changing, they call you. Just some pretty words to get people to throw coins at you, eh?”

There’s movement, all at once. A hand roughly grasping at the musician’s arm. A sharp gasp, a jerk away. Heads turn. Notably—alarmingly—one with fiery red hair is among them. If he’s here, there’s really no other choice but to intervene. Debts to pay, and all that. Legault falls into step behind and then beside the young man, and it’s as easy as it had ever been. Easier still is overpowering someone so distracted by their anger that they’re utterly unaware of your presence.

A knife to the brute’s throat is more than enough to draw his attention away from the singer. Legault forces a few steps back, then tilts his head to glance to the other new interloper.

“Lord Eliwood,” he greets, “Good, I could use your negotiating skill. See, this man seems to be stirring up some trouble with this lovely young woman. Do you think you could try talking some sense into him?”

@of-pherae long time no see :]

[katabatiic]

One part habit, another part skill sharpening—these are Legault’s excuses for not using the front door to enter this little shindig. He may technically be a party crasher, but he’s still dressed for the occasion. Of special note is a small length of fabric worn around the neck and a gold ear cuff, both gifts from old companions.

“Ah, here we are…” A pass by one of the decorative flower arrangements secures his final piece: a little bouquet of tulips. The ex-assassin is now perfectly blended with the crowd. (Legault technically does not have a date, but he does have some people he likes to bother. That will be their problem to deal with /lh. Outfit below!)

Flower Tracker:

Rose: Orchid: Lily: Hyacinth: Tulip:

[katabatiic]

you are: the patron saints of bones

patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

Tagged by: kano Tagging: 🫵

[katabatiic]

a bird is basically a lizard, right?

mission: infamous task | flying +1 art challenge

[katabatiic]

She’d seemed almost too perfect. Feathers or no, wings are a rare asset in a model when one is searching for something to evoke a wyvern. Legault had spent some time seated at a stone bench and sketching from a distance, trying to work out the differences between avian and reptilian. The results of his efforts were...middling, by his standards. With the sun crawling across the sky, he still has little more than some abandoned sketches.

He glances from his paper up to his subject, then up toward the sky behind her. The light would be changing soon, if he continues to sit and work from here. Colors will shift, shadows will get longer, and he’ll no longer have the same view.

Ah, but maybe that’s the key. It’s not quite right from here, but if he could change the angle…

Dusting charcoal-stained fingertips off and tucking his work into his cloak, he decides to rise and approach his current muse.

“Excuse me. I realize this is a strange request, but would you consider standing guard about...two feet to the left from your current spot? It’d help me a great deal.”

@argentiia i'm only asking for normal reasons 💜

[serraic]

That Little Thorn In Your Side

[serraic]

Serra was about to launch into a little summary on how, really, nothing was probably ever that great about a group of killers, but Legault's bemoaning about how they were "all far stronger" than he makes her anger drop and her eyes roll automatically, quite before she can control herself and stop it. She doesn't even have the decency to feel badly afterwards. What, so he's going to walk into camp, ignore her, then have a pity party? What a guy! What a guy of all time!

"You would be," she agrees, enthusiastically. "But, you know, just because Lord Eliwood likes you, doesn't mean I have to! I'm the head healer here, okay? If I say you don't get healing, you don't! So... so, you shouldn't make fun of me! Seriously!"

She still has the feeling that he's going to make fun of her, though.

[katabatiic]

Well, at least they’re on the same page. Legault’s wry smile gives way to a quiet laugh, which probably doesn’t help with the impression that he’s making fun of her.

“Oh dear. I’ve gotten myself into a mess then, haven’t I? It’s no good joining up with a nice strong group if I’ll be left to bleed in the field after a scuffle.”

He folds his hands together, too loose to quite fit as a pleading gesture. Don’t want to go over the top now, do we?

“How can I make up for my offense, Dame Serra?”